


How To Pick Up Chicks

by Teravolt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Giada the chick, I told y'all I was gonna write fic for this AU, M/M, Yeehaw AU, farm au, farmer keith, slight angst, stripper shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 10:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15483546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teravolt/pseuds/Teravolt
Summary: The origin of Giada and a couple of Yees bein' haws.





	How To Pick Up Chicks

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [Tofuloo's](http://tofuloo.tumblr.com/) incredible Yeehaw AU, which honestly has me living my best life.  
> Feel free to [scream at me on Tumblr,](https://teravoltron.tumblr.com/) as usual.

When the chick first hatches, they aren’t sure she’ll make it.

She’s tiny, weak and overall sickly, barely able to pick herself up from the floor of the brooder when Keith comes around at feeding time. Even when she does find her strength, the rest of the hatchlings dominate the feeding scene, leaving their tiny sister to fend for herself.

It’s a part of life, according to Keith—something that every farmer must ultimately become accustomed to. The fact is that sometimes, no matter how much it sucks, things die. Chicks fade, the occasional calf or kid arrives stillborn or passes after only a few short days on earth. It’s the way of the world, and getting hung up on it helps nobody. There are still chores to be done, mouths to be fed and a routine to be upheld, lest the farm fall into disarray.

Shiro, however, is not so accepting. He knows that Keith doesn’t mean to be so callous, that he’s only thinking of the big picture. It’s admirable, and Keith’s steadfast and unshakeable personality is only one of the countless reasons that Shiro fell in love with him. But Shiro himself, used to fighting for what he wants, is outright incapable of giving up so easily.

It’s why he doesn’t flinch when Keith walks in on him setting up a small brooder in the corner of their bedroom and asks, in ever-eloquent Keith fashion, “What in the _hell_ are ya doin’?”

Shiro, in the middle of fiddling with a baby monitor at one end of the brooder, doesn’t look up. “Preparing for the grand opening of Giada’s Five-Star Chick Suite.”

Keith’s lack of a response is what makes Shiro glance briefly over his shoulder to check that his husband is still there. He is, so Shiro returns his attention to the task at hand: tuning the monitor until a symphony of soft peeps echoes from the corner. It’s the only sound in the room for several long seconds.

“Chick… Suite? Giada? Shiro, what on God’s green earth are you talkin’ about?”

Oh, Keith, bless his heart. The midsummer sun must be getting to him.

“Giada,” Shiro answers, and straightens from his squatting position over the brooder. “Is the sickly little thing from the recent hatch. Gonna give her some good ‘ole TLC and TL-see if she doesn’t get better.”

Shiro can’t tell if the look on Keith’s face is from the admission or the pun. He supposes it doesn’t matter either way, as Keith’s expression changes from moderately-annoyed to equally-concerned in the next second.

“Shiro.” Keith’s tone is careful. “Y’all remember what I said ‘bout namin’ ailing critters, don’tcha?”

“That it’s a bad idea,” Shiro replies nonchalantly, tearing open a bag of pine shavings with which to line the bottom of the brooder. He only remembers the baby monitor after he’s dumped half the bag in and buried it, and he swears under his breath.

“R…ight…” Keith’s frown is audible and carries considerable presence in the room. “And yet—”

“I ain’t gonna let Giada die,” Shiro informs him resolutely. He shoves a hand into the mountain of pine shavings and fishes out the still-chirping monitor. “I’m gonna make sure she pulls through.”

Doubtfully, Keith crosses his arms. It isn’t as though he wants to discourage his husband from caring for the poorly chick, but rather that he doesn’t want Shiro to suffer the heartbreak that will surely come if Giada passes despite his best efforts. Even so, Keith has been with Shiro long enough to know that once he has his mind set on something, dissuading him is like trying to squeeze blood from a space turnip.

The chirping coming from the monitor grows minutely louder as Shiro brushes the bedding away from the speaker, and Keith arches an eyebrow. “And what exactly iss’at for?”

Shiro doesn’t answer right away, instead tucking the still-peeping device back into the corner of the brooder. “Company,” he finally says, surveying his work for a moment before turning to Keith. “Chickens are super social, right? I’ve gotta separate Giada from the rest of the flock to take care of her, else she won’t be able to eat properly. I thought hearing the others might keep her from getting too lonely.”

The explanation startles Keith, and it shows. Shiro does plenty to help out around the farm, but his agricultural specialties lie in gardening rather than the handling of livestock. He’s learned most of what he knows about live handling from Keith, but Keith most definitely doesn’t remember educating him on the social needs of flock animals outside of an incredibly vague “bird need friend” in passing.

“Where’d ya learn that?”

The grin that Shiro is sporting can only be described as one of the shit-eating variety. He claps his hands together to rid them of pine dust and brushes past Keith, leaning in to kiss his cheek on the way to fetch Giada from the coop.

“Google.”

-

And so begins Shiro’s mission to reclaim Giada from the encroaching hands of what he’s dubbed the ‘Grim Cheeper.’ Keith doesn’t know what the embodiment of death might look like from a poultry perspective, but if its appearance is akin to its name in any way, shape or fashion, Keith knows he’d never be able to take it seriously.

Even with that in mind, there’s something to be said of the way Shiro cares for Giada, watching over her like a literal mother hen. Every two hours, like clockwork, an alarm sounds on Shiro’s phone—a rooster’s crow that unfailingly causes him to drop whatever he’s doing and head back to the farmhouse. Keith doesn’t mind picking up the slack—not when he can see how incredibly much this entire endeavor means to his husband; however, he still has his misgivings about Giada. The more attached Shiro grows to the ailing chick, the more concerned Keith becomes that, should she ultimately not make it, Shiro will blame himself.

Keith tries to have this conversation with Shiro twice. The first attempt Is less than what its namesake implies, for when Keith walks in on his husband cradling Giada to his chest, stroking her tiny head with a fingertip and murmuring soft words of encouragement to her, he loses his nerve and leaves the room without speaking. The second is three days later, when Shiro himself begins to grow discouraged with Giada’s inability to eat despite the lack of competition for meals. She’s growing steadily weaker, and Keith can see the conflict in Shiro’s eyes as Shiro desperately tries to coax the chick to take in the calories that could save her life.

Keith’s hand is a gentle warmth on Shiro’s shoulder.

“Y’can’t blame yerself,” he whispers, following Shiro’s dismal gaze to the tiny bundle of down that is Giada lying in the nest of pine shavings. “Sometimes it just isn’t meant to be.”

When Shiro doesn’t respond, Keith fills the silence with words that he knows Shiro doesn’t hear—an empty speech about the circle of life and its beautiful tragedies. He only pauses when Shiro mutters something in a tone that’s half harsh, half defeated.

“Pardon—?”

“I said, ‘shut up!’” Shiro snaps, far louder this time. Keith, taken aback, drops his hand and retreats a single step.

“Shiro—”

“Why can’t you just have some faith in me?” Shiro demands, and rounds on Keith. His hands tremble in his lap, an unmistakable storm of emotion raging behind his eyes. For as long as Keith has known him, Shiro has always worn his heart on his sleeve. Keith knows as much, and considers it a part of his husband’s charm. But seeing Shiro like this now, holding back tears of anger, heartbreak and frustration, pulls a memory from the depths of Keith’s heart of the last time he saw Shiro so helpless. That’s all it takes for him to recognize the mistake he’s made, and Shiro’s next outburst only serves to confirm his realization. “Why is it so easy for you to want to give up on her?!”

Despite the hostility in Shiro’s body language, Keith settles down next to him. The tension in Shiro’s entire body carries the short distance between them and stiffens Keith’s limbs and back, but he doesn’t shift away.

“Iss’not. And I don’t.” Shiro doesn’t react to Keith’s quiet assurance, and a few long seconds pass before Keith speaks again. “M’sorry.” The words come out soft but sincere. Keith chances leaning in to rest his head against Shiro’s shoulder. “You’re right—I should be tryin’ to help, not givin’ ya grief for wantin’ to take care of ‘er.”

Shiro doesn’t pull away, though his gaze remains fixed on the fading chick in the bottom of the brooder. “I can’t just let her die,” he whispers after a few beats of silence. “I... I know what it’s like to be a lost cause. To be given up on. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Once again, Keith recalls that look of utter misery in the eyes of a man fresh out of the army, the clouded gaze of someone wounded in body and spirit. The forlorn expression Shiro wears now is identical to that of his past self, told by his superiors just prior to his discharge that the loss of his arm had made him more a liability than an asset. Shiro isn’t lying when he says he knows what it’s like to be so utterly helpless that none can fathom the possibility of one’s salvation.

Keith’s hand finds Shiro’s in their newly-shared lap space. His hat tips at an awkward angle, then falls to the floor as Keith nestles ever closer.

“We’re gonna save ‘er.” Then, after a brief pause, “I promise.”

As Shiro relaxes slightly against Keith, he drags a thumb over Keith’s knuckles in both gratitude and apology. “Sorry for yelling at you,” he murmurs, and Keith’s shrug is more felt than seen against Shiro’s shoulder.

“I needed it.”

-

Their first order of business is getting Giada to eat. Taking a page out of Shiro’s book, Keith takes to the Internet in search of answers and devises a plan based on what he finds. On what’s to be his first evening alone with Giada, Keith is kneeling in front of the brooder when Shiro, about to leave for work, wanders in for a goodbye kiss.

“What’re you doing?” Shiro asks, peering into the brooder to find Keith’s calloused hands full, Giada in one and a small eyedropper in the other. The dropper is full of what appears to be some sort of brown syrup, which Keith is patiently dribbling along Giada’s beak in the hope that she takes some in. Before Shiro can question exactly what Keith is feeding the chick, Keith returns Giada to her nest and offers up an explanation.

“According to the Google,” he states, and wipes his hands on a damp washcloth. “A solution of water and molasses can be used to stimulate a fadin’ chick’s appetite. The sugar’s s’posed to give ‘em enough of an energy boost to eat real food.” A second look reveals that Giada, though sluggish, is attempting to preen herself, apparently displeased by the stickiness of the syrup that’s stained her down. “In a few minutes I’ll see how she does with some chick mash an’ go from there.”

Shiro nods, dumbfounded by how hands-on Keith has suddenly become with Giada. It’s like watching a new father hold his baby for the very first time, and somehow different from the countless other occasions on which Shiro has watched Keith handle young livestock. Shiro isn’t about to tell Keith that, though.

With a warm smile, Shiro bends down to peck Keith on the cheek. “Keep me posted, yeah? I love you.”

“Love you too,” Keith replies with a grin. “Knock ‘em dead, babe.”

With Shiro on his way to sexually frustrate the masses, Keith is left to his own devices. He peers back into the brooder to find Giada staring right back up at him with brighter-than-usual eyes and an uncharacteristically perky air about her, and wonders if he’s stumbled upon some kind of miracle in the form of molasses.

-

When Shiro takes his break in his dressing room a few hours later, the first thing he does is fish his phone out of his abandoned jeans with the intention of checking on Giada. There’s already a message waiting for him, however, and though it takes the club’s shitty Wi-Fi a small eternity to load up the attachment, Shiro is absolutely delighted by what he sees. Keith has sent him a video of Giada, bright-eyed and bushy-feathered, voraciously devouring the chick mash that Keith has placed in her brooder. Over the thudding bass of the music playing outside come Keith’s gentle words of praise, followed by laughter as he tries to pet Giada’s soft down and gets his fingers pecked instead. The difference between the little bird in the video Shiro watches ten times over and the pitiful scrap of only a few days prior is that of night and day, and Shiro feels emotion well up in his chest. He’s nothing short of giddy as he speed-dials Keith.

“H’lo?”

“I love you,” Shiro tells him immediately, and is rewarded by a soft chuckle.

“Love you too, ya big oaf. I told ya she’d be fine, didn’t I?”

Shiro nods vigorously for a moment before realizing that Keith can’t see him. It’s probably just as well, since tears have found their way to his eyes and down his cheeks in the few short seconds since the call began. “Thanks,” he whispers, unable to raise his voice for fear of it breaking. “For not giving up on her. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

Keith’s smile is present in the softness of his reply.

“’Course I do.”

-

That night marks a complete turnaround for Giada. Her appetite and the energy she develops as a result of each meal fuel one other in a cycle that has Shiro as over the moon as a gow in a Galran nursery rhyme. It only takes a few weeks for Giada to catch up to the other chicks from her brood, and the day that Shiro and Keith can reunite her with her brothers and sisters is one of unbridled emotion.

Except that Giada, in her infinite avian wisdom, does not seem at all interested in existing among her fluffy brethren. The pattern presents itself almost immediately: Shiro places Giada on the floor of the coop and backs away, being careful of the other chicks in his path. However, he only manages to retreat a couple of steps before Giada has sought him out, peeping excitedly as she waddles her fluffy body all the way back to Shiro before he can make his exit.

It happens at least seven times. Place, retreat, repeat. Shiro looks to Keith for help, but all Keith can do is rub his temples.

“Son of a gun,” he mutters, and takes his hat off expressly to trail a hand through his hair in exasperation. “We done raised ourselves a damn house chicken.”

They haven’t a choice but to take Giada back with them. At least not after Keith sees the utter joy on Shiro’s face at the idea of bringing Giada into their residence on what will essentially be a permanent basis. Never mind that they have two huge dogs that fight for their shared bed space already. Never mind that Giada will soon grow into the galaxy’s most spoiled hen, residing cozily in the brooder next to their bed until the day when she inevitably begins sleeping on one of their pillows. Never mind any of the complexities that come with keeping a chicken in the house. Keith is weak to that doofy smile of Shiro’s, and damn if Shiro doesn’t know it.

-

In the coming days, Shiro dotes on Giada as though she’s a toddler rather than a chicken, and it isn’t long before Keith takes notice of something. For having started out so thin and sickly, Giada has come a long way, and when Keith plops her round body onto the scale one evening, he discovers just how far that is.

Giada is a pudgy, pudgy bird.

When Shiro arrives home from the club the following morning, Keith wastes no time cornering him after a brief welcome-back kiss.

“Yer chick is fat,” he deadpans, jerking his head toward a very content Giada, who is pecking casually at the floor of her brooder.

“Okay, rude,” Shiro huffs, brow furrowing.

“M’serious,” Keith groans. “She needs t’get some exercise, and ya need t’stop sneakin’ her treats when y’think I ain’t lookin’.” He regards Shiro with an arched brow and crossed arms. Shiro, for a split second, looks like a deer in a set of headlights before huffing indignantly and stalking over to scoop Giada into his cupped hands.

“Giada is beautiful and I’m outraged and offended by your accusations,” he scoffs, and kisses the chick on her fuzzy head as he flops down onto the couch to play with her.

“She’s tubby,” Keith refutes.

“Lies. You’re just jealous. Isn’t he, Giada? He just doesn’t understand.” Giada chirps in response, and Keith is pretty sure he’s just been told to go to hell. By a chicken.

“M’not jealous,” Keith reasons, settling on the couch next to Shiro. “You want Giada t’be healthy, don’tcha? So cut back on the snacks a little an’ let her roam around a bit. Ain’t gonna kill ‘er.”

Shiro appears to consider this suggestion for a moment, and he finally nods his head, albeit with some reluctance. “Fine. But I’m still giving her treats. Just not as many.”

“Thas’ fine,” Keith chuckles, and slings an arm around Shiro’s shoulders to cuddle close. They’re both quiet for a moment, the only sounds that of their shared heartbeats and Giada’s cheerful peeps.

“Between you n’ me,” Keith says lowly into Shiro’s ear, an unmistakably sultry note to his classic southern drawl. “Maybe I _am_ a lil’ bit jealous. If I’m bein’ honest, I can’t say I’m completely thrilled with the fact that you’ve been payin’ so much attention to another coc—”

Shiro’s affronted gasp cuts Keith off before he can finish, and he slaps his hands dramatically over where he guesses Giada’s ears might be.

“How _dare_ you?!” he hisses, and Keith is struggling to hold back his laughter at the mingled look of disgust and disbelief on his husband’s face. “Giada is a _lady;_ I’ll not have you speak to _or_ about her in such a way!”

Keith can’t contain himself for a single second past that, and erupts into a cacophony of giggles as Giada, blissfully ignorant as a chicken can be, chirps happily from Shiro’s lap.

Some things never change.


End file.
